


Sometimes shared experiences aren’t a good thing

by stacys_mom



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Gore, In which I felt like writing a lot of violence, Scars, Soulmate AU, Violence, business as usual bats, jason todd deserves a hug, jasons terrible no good childhood, no I didn’t proofread this thanks for commenting my mistakes :)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 05:30:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23306428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stacys_mom/pseuds/stacys_mom
Summary: Honestly, you haven’t decided yet whether you were the luckiest bastard alive, or a metaphorical cat scratching post for any bitch with chaws to dig themselves into. The “short end of the soulmate stick” that’s what your parents said every time you had to stay home from school with another injury. But with the amount of times you’ve been knocked down and beaten up, taking blow after blow that your soulmate had received… well it prepared you for what the world had to offer, really, the stench of blood didn’t even phase you and the sound of snapping bones is numb to your ears. Gotham’s underbelly can’t deliver anything worse than the torture you’ve already been through.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Reader
Comments: 26
Kudos: 179





	1. Chapter 1

It had started off small when you were a kid. Slaps blossoming across your cheek in the dead of night or the smack of a belt across your back and butt. Your parents were horrified the first time they saw you flinch during family dinner, a grown man’s handprint glowing bright red across your 4 year old cheek.  
“Down’t wowry mama,” you said with a silent tear rolling down your cheek “the ciwrcles are the ones that wreawwy huwrt.”

“What circles honey?” Your dad said, one hand gripping your mother’s who was covering her mouth tears streaming down her face. 

“It’s my sowlmate papa, wike you and mommie!” You explained while lifting the sleeve of your shirt. “Wike the stowy mommie told me of how when she was wittle and bwoke her awrm and you did too becauwse youwre sowlmates!” Under your T-shirt sleeve was your shoulder freckled with circular cigarette burns. Some fresh, some scabbed, some old and scarred. 

Well, like you said. It started small. 

Belt hits and cigarette burns slowly transitioned into the lash of a beer bottle on your forehead and waking up to your pillow soaked in blood. Somewhere along the way you got numb to the pain. Able to sleep through the night and not even be woken up by the painful beatings and lashings your soulmate received. By the time you were 6, in elementary school, your teachers had called home and called child protective services multiple times and every time you’d hear that phrase again, “she got the short end of the soulmate stick”. They never believed your parents until you were sitting in front of the principal and a social worker, and interrupted their argument asking your mother for one of the tissues she always carried in her purse because of you. 

“Sweet Jesus, sweetheart, doesn’t that hurt?” The social worker asked you, eyebrows raised as she looked at the gash newly decorating your brow. Your mother said nothing as she cleaned up the blood dripping into your eye and held a tissue to the cut. 

“No, I’m used to it” you said cheerfully “besides we’ve had worse”. 

—-

You and your soulmate had a secret language. You knew they were okay and they knew you were fine because after even the worst of the worst when you saw stars for days and tasted copper in your mouth, they’d pinch the fleshy base of their left thumb. Something hard enough for you to feel the pressure through the bond but not enough to leave a mark, just something to say “I’m here, I’m sorry” and you’d do the same to your right thumb, trading back and forth all night until one or both of you fell asleep. 

Come 6th grade when you were 11, the cigarette burns had stopped and all the scars had turned silver, the hunger started. Because that’s when the hunger began. Worse than anything you’ve ever felt before. Worse than a bottle to the head. Worse than staples on your tongue. Worse than a needle under your fingernails. Being able to put a name to every abuse your soulmate had to go through, writing it in a diary is something that a therapist your parents sent to you recommended. But how could you write about the gnawing, all consuming hunger you felt day and night no matter how much you ate, no matter how many times you passed out and woke up in a hospital bed with an iv drip, praying that by some supernatural force your poor soulmate would soak up some of the nutrients. How could you write about how on rainy nights you needed to sleep with an electric blanket because of the bone chilling cold. 

But every night, without fail you’d feel the pinch in your left hand. Sometimes it felt like your soulmate was biting or sucking their thumb, those were the nights you knew they felt extra sorry for the person on the other side of their bond. You imagined your soulmate biting the flesh of their palm at times like these and kissing it better, whispering sorry to someone they’d never met before but were predestined to love, predestined to feel and share their pain. But your soulmate was mostly just sorry. Sorry that you drew the short end of the soulmate stick. 

Because how could you write about feeling used, when it wasn’t even your body to begin with. 

When you were nearly 13 the hunger stopped. All the pain stopped. No pinches, no bites, not even a stubbed toe. You were so shocked that you actually thought your soulmate had died until you felt that first hit again, strong, but not enough to leave a bruise. You were in class when it happened. Everyone gave you sorrowful looks, teachers especially given the note that came up in your file every year “abused soulmate, ignore cuts and bruises”, the bullies and more nosey students would mock your scars and say terrible things. “Your soulmate must hate you if they keep letting themselves get abused like that” or “your soulmate will be as ugly as you with all those scars”. But with that first hit, the world felt right again. You cupped your cheek and felt the warmth radiating under it and felt your knuckles start to sting. Giddy you covered your mouth trying not to burst out in hysterical laughter, and you smiled until your cheeks hurt. They were back, and this time they were the ones dishing out the pain, you bit your right palm as hard as you could to leave a mark. 

Your left hand had your soulmates teeth etched into it for days after that. 

After that the scars and scrapes began anew, and with more alarming levels. Punches, gashes, whips, and burns were nothing new. Hell you could still sleep through those. But the first time your soulmate was shot, that you actually felt. Waking up screaming your parents ran into your room to find you clutching your leg. Your father held you down and put your stuffed animal between your teeth to bite down on as your mother squeezed your hand while you felt pliers dig around in the muscle searching for the still searing hot bullet. By the time they were about to call 911 you felt the telltale signs of a needle and thread going through the flesh of your thigh. You whimpered and cried into your parents arms as they cleaned up the blood and took you into their room to sleep. You fell to sleep feeling a faint pinch in your palm. 

—-

Physical pain, you could deal with. Hell you’d said you were an expert at this point. But you never knew how exhausting mental pain could feel until the day your mom died. Growing up in Gotham during the rise of the costumed villain was funny at times and downright terrifying at others. Finding yourself at a man robber orchestrated by two face who had all the hostages lined up on their knees and was letting a coin toss decide their fate, was one of the more terrifying parts. One by one he went down the line. Heads meant shot in the head, tails meant shot in the leg. 

“It’s up to chance,” he kept repeating. 

You were before your mother in line, and as she begged and pleaded saying “please she’s just 15” all you could think about was memorizing her voice and the way her face looked in the afternoon sunlight. Gods she was beautiful. You couldn’t even hear her screaming as the coin was tossed in the air, you were too enthralled with the beautiful way her eyes looked as she cried. You barely even feel the bullet go through your leg but you knew you should be in pain by the way your mother looked at you. And you knew you should be panicking by the way two face moved onto her coin toss but you couldn’t move, you couldn’t breathe. You just sat there looking into her beautiful eyes as she smiled softly at you, crinkling her nose slightly. She sighed through her nose and whispered “I love you, baby” as the coin fell through the air. 

Her eyes didn’t look so beautiful when one was smeared on the wall behind her. 

By the time gcpd showed up two face was at the end of the lineup of hostages and his goons were nearly done with the door to the vault. Your right thumb was bleeding from how much you had pinched and scratched it, clawing at your own skin as you sobbed in silence looking down at the floor tiles just watching your mother's blood begin to creep over and soak your pant leg that wasn’t already covered in blood. 

By the time Batman crashed through the window above you, sending a hailstorm of glass to lick through your arms as you tried to block your neck, your pants were soaked and two face was in the vault. Batman and Robin, Gotham’s saviors. Protectors of the weak and defenseless. Sitting in an ambulance as you watched your father stumble out of his car and run over to you, and your mothers body bag be zipped up. You looked to the rooftop where Robin was perched and back down to the alley across from you where Batman was talking to an older officer smoking a cigarette, and you decided that without that they were never going to protect you. It was your time to protect yourself from the pain. And who knows maybe someday you can protect your soulmate too. 

—-

Your dad already had one foot into being a vigilante before your mother was killed, this was the push that he needed. To feel the split second of blinding pain and to lose sight in his left eye as his soulmate was killed. Being apart of the New Jersey National Guard and a part time martial arts instructor meant that he already had the basics down and all he needed was some Kevlar and a mask. Convincing him to teach you was a task and a half in its own but eventually you managed. By age 16 you were a triple black belt under his tutelage and had trained with many other masters in many fighting techniques. You had nearly mastered hand to hand combat and were an excellent marksman and extremely proficient in any weapon dropped in your hands. You and your father didn’t dawn capes. You weren’t doing it for the flare or to scare criminals. You were doing it to save the people, plain and simple. Getting revenge on Gotham’s underbelly would just be a bonus. 

Frontline and backup. That’s who you were. A team. Not wearing gimmicky costumes or saying puns, you were there to help and to take out the bad guys. You got your Kevlar and boots from an army surplus store and painted everything black and designed your own goggles with night vision, infrared, and so much more. You brought justice with the flick of a blade or the shot of a gun and you ended murderers or rapists where they stood, never again waiting for gcpd or Batman and Robin to come save the day. You were out there making a difference, and you were damn good. 

The day that the world stopped for you, was the day that you lost everything. You lost your soulmate. You lost your father. You lost your sanity. 

Thinking back on it, it really was that first blow to the head by that damn crowbars fault that your dad died. 

You were covering him tonight. The code names were designed to be interchangeable, sometimes the frontline needed to be small and stealthy and sometimes it needed to be a heavy hitter. Today backup was the rooftop sniper that was supposed to cover any stragglers while frontline mowed its way through a mob hideout. You watched through your scope and picked off men one by one, as your dad made it room by room clearing out the penthouse. 

“Good job baby girl” he said to you, giving a thumbs up in your direction. Working his way through the penthouse he slit throats and put bullets in brains and you picked up the ones he couldn’t. He was walking down a hallway, pistol raised, about to kick down the door to the next room filled with even more men when the first blow hit you out of nowhere. Stars danced across your vision and blood began to run from your temple coating your left eye making it impossible to see. 

“Fuck, dad” you gasped. Right as he kicked in the door making him lose concentration and get ambushed by a dozen men. You tried shooting at them but every time you had a shot lined up you’d be struck in the head or the gut or had your kneecaps shattered. You were being tortured all over again with a vengeance you hadn’t ever felt before all while you were forced to watch your dad slowly be overwhelmed through your scope. 

They had him on his knees when the beatings stopped. You ignored the burning of each breath from a collapsed lung, and ignored the way you could see your tibia exposed through your thigh with blood pooling out around you. You ignored it all and set your rifles scope on the man behind your dad, yanking his head up by his hair and holding a knife to his throat. You ignored the weak pinching at your palm of your soulmate reassuring you that they were still there, as you lined up your shot and inhaled. 

“I love you baby” you saw your dad mouth as you exhaled ready to pull the trigger- and the fire started. Deep deep burning flashing across your entire front, blistering your skin and knocking you unconscious just after you watched his throat be slit. 

—-

Someone had found you on that rooftop, taking you to the hospital where you stayed in the burn ward for months. Your surgeons scraped off the dead and charred skin and set grafts and machines to keep you alive. Nobody knew what happened to you, there were no fires or explosions on the night you were brought in. They couldn’t have guessed until they saw the skin of your chest being prepped to be vivisected. Doctors watched fascinated and disgusted as your soulmate received an autopsy and your skin was peeled back all the same. Machines keeping you alive as you screamed and broke your own wrists and legs against the restraints. Anesthesiologists quickly did everything they could to put you under as your chest was being spread apart but not morphine or anything short of a lobotomy could erase the memory of seeing your own rib cage. 

You later learned that video had been taken and was shown at medical conferences for warnings about soulmate bonds and medical emergencies. 

The real kicker for the doctors however was the day when you fully regained consciousness and full use of your limbs out of nowhere and began screaming and ripping tubes out. There hadn’t been a single sign of recovery nor had they had any hopes for you at all but here you were, kicking doctors away and attempting to escape. Eventually you were sedated and strapped down, but overnight when doctors and nurses weren’t paying attention you slipped away. 

Your dad had made sure that you’d be able to take care of yourself if he did die and you had no one left. You had a fully paid for apartment stocked with anything you could need- weapons, passports, money, you name it. But you decided to stay. You had a mission to complete. Kill two face and now the goons that slit your father's throat. 

About a week after waking from your coma, you felt your soulmate drown. Boy was that unpleasant. You coughed and gagged all the meanwhile watching the burnt skin and scars that decorated your hands and arms shrink and heal. It felt like you were on fire but the flames were wet and cold and you felt everything that had ever caused a scar flame up again as they healed themselves over. But the thing that changed the most wasn’t your skin, it was your mind. You felt clear and free for the first time in a while. You had one focus and one thing on your mind. 

You weren’t going to abide by the rules anymore and now it’s your turn to take the shots. 

A few years passed and you and your soulmate had shared your fair share of blows each, a bullet here and there and a particularly strange evening when your throat was partially slit. But the strangest thing was one night when you hadn’t felt anything for weeks save for the usual bruised knuckles your palm had the weakest pinch, something you hadn’t felt in years. Followed by the scraping of a knife on the back of your hand-  
“Sorry” they had carved out. 

“Autopsies hurt” you tattooed on the inside of your wrist that night, drunk and crying for the first time in months. 

—-

Patrolling Gotham without a specific mission for the night was your favorite thing to do. Nights like these where you could take your time, listen to the sounds the city had to offer and watch the way that the city seemed alive at night. You loved it. You ran along busting small crimes and stopping attempts at rape. You checked in with some of the prostitutes you had come to befriend and with the street kids you taught how to pickpocket. Gotham was truly one of a kind and it was yours. 

You went by a new name now, the legacy of frontline and backup died the day your father did. New costume with tech you stole from the likes of Bruce Wayne and Lex Luthor, but you still kept homage to the original costumes your dad and you had spotted. Months of broken needles on the reinforced fabrics you had stolen made your costume possible- Simple black camo tactical pants, black combat boots, a tight black turtleneck, and your goggles of course. You also had your moms old leather jacket for days that were cold. So what if you looked like a Kim possible carrying a gun and a machete, you felt powerful and you could move silently and carry everything in your pockets and thigh holsters. You were The Hunter. You were the best. People all around Gotham and all around the world hired you, and yet Batman and his crew could never find you. You killed right under their noses, you robbed and stole and blackmailed and stole some more. You were living your best life, but you were so utterly alone. 

Running along the rooftops of the narrows you reveled in the quietness of the night and the cool wind blowing through your hair that you had let down for that sole purpose. 

It had been a quiet week for both you and your soulmate, only a broken knuckle and a busted lip. But those combined with the scar that went through your eyebrow and the silver line decorating your throat meant that you didn’t go out much. Even before all your scars went away when your soulmate drowned you didn’t socialize much, too many pitiful stares or grimaces at the scars on your face. 

Running into someone while on patrol generally meant one of two things, a knocked out vigilante that tried to get too close to you or a dead wannabe mugger. Based on the click of a gun behind you, you figured it would be the second option tonight. 

“Hands in the air, leave your gun in the holster. Now.” Came a growl from behind you. 

Lifting your hands and closing your eyes you took a deep breath and began to count to 5, soon enough he’d tell you to turn around or he’d come closer to try and grab you and from there you could handle him in hand to hand. The scum of Gotham were all the same, nothing origina-

“That’s... an interesting scar on your hand” he said, shaking you from your inner monologue. 

“Yeah,” you said, turning your head so you could look at the word etched into your skin “my parents used to say I got the short end of the soulmate stick” you finished jumping back into a back handspring and kicked the gun out of his hand. “But don’t worry, this is nothing” you said nonchalantly as you hooked your leg behind you around him and twisted your hips bringing him to the ground, then straddled his waist, pinning him “we’ve had worse”. 

“Yeah I guess we have, haven’t we?” He laughed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enough people asked for a second part so here ya go you heathens, I love you and I’ll work on more chapters soon

You couldn’t say anything in response as you looked at the man you had trapped beneath you. Squinting your eyes, scrunching your nose, and cocking your head you looked at the red helmet underneath you. The metal was unforgiving and the tech in your goggles couldn’t see through it, the only sign of him being just as shocked and just as human as you was the uptake in breath you could feel from where you were sitting on his chest and the slivers of exposed skin on his wrists. 

This was the man that disrupted the system you had in place for years after your father died. You killed anyone who decided to get a little too rough with their girls or decided to mix anything too poisonous in with the drugs they were selling. You let Batman and the cops deal with the baddies mostly, sticking to yourself and doing jobs when hired. It was effective. You liked sticking to the sides and not having to deal enough then. Honestly, you aren’t much of a people person, you couldn’t inspire fear or draw a crowd. You much preferred to do a job and get out of there, not manage a business. But not him. From the moment he sauntered into Gotham he changed things. And he changed them for the better in your eyes. 

Everyone knew about the big bad red hood, he was all that anyone talked about in Gotham for a few weeks after he took over all the drug and prostitution rings by killing all the lieutenants and stuffing their heads in a duffel bag. At the time you were impressed, you had been running through the streets of Gotham alone for a while by the time hood showed up but the impact that he made in such a short time was something short of a miracle. Drug trade was controlled and you never saw kids dealing or using after he took charge and the working girls all had access to clean beds and birth control. The Red Hood was cleaning up the more unsavory parts of the city that the GCPD and Batman wanted to burn down, no matter the fact that it would always rise again. 

But looking down at him, up close and not through a scope or across rooftops as you both ran, really seeing him for the first time… hot damn. 

The feel of his leather clad biceps under your hands and the thick thighs stuffed into those holsters twitching as he raised his knees so his legs were bent behind where you sat on his hips. He looked like he could run a marathon carrying you over his shoulder. He looked like he could throw you onto a bed and worship you for hours. He looked like he could pin you down and claim you right then and there, and yet he let you stay there on top holding his arms down. 

And you could see it too, why he said what he said, between the edge of his glove and where his leather jacket was pushed up, the tattoo you had scribbled onto your own skin one night in anger, or pain, or whatever it was- was mirrored right there on his wrist. 

Maybe you didn’t have to be alone after all. 

Removing your shaking hands from where you had his arms held down “Take off your helmet” you said softly. 

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours” he replied tapping one finger to the mirrored goggles that covered most of your face. You forgot that while you wanted to know what your soulmate looked like he couldn’t see you either. You huffed in embarrassment and lifted your goggles to rest on the top of your head and crossing your arms. The red mask made a click and a hiss as he removed it, revealing a red domino mask underneath. 

You sighed, clicking your tongue, “and how many times did I wake up with a concussion because you break your helmet frequently enough to warrant a second smaller mask underneath?” Uncrossing your arms you traced one finger along the hollow of his throat where the silver scar now stood out. When you looked back up his mask was gone and in its place was two of the brightest electric green eyes you’d ever seen. “Oh we match” you said cupping his cheek and gazing into those eyes “mine used to be e/c”. 

“Side effect of how I was resurrected… mine used to be blue. You don’t have the white stripe though, that’s odd”. He mused while running a hand through your long h/c hair. 

“I dye it, it’s too discerning of a feature and I don’t wear a full helmet. You’re going to have to tell me the full story some day”

Jason moves his hands down, swiping a finger across your cheek and his thumb over the scar on your throat. “So… Like what you see?” He asked with a smirk, fingers ghosting down your side to rest on your thighs. 

“Hm” you hummed grabbing his chin and tilting his face side to side to examine him further “you definitely have redeemable qualities. Model quality looks. A full head of hair. Original teeth. A strong pulse and functioning limbs. All in all I’d say a solid 7.9 out of 10” 

Laughing and looking back up at you he asked “Only a 7?”

Smirking back at him “I don’t like to judge a book by its cover” 

“Well I think,” he said flipping the two of you over so you were on your back under him as he cradled your neck in one hand and your thigh in the other as you wrapped one leg around his waist “you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever encountered”. 

You smiled sweetly at him “You don’t look so bad yourself Mr. Hood”

“Jason” he supplied, leaning into nuzzle your throat “My name is Jason Peter Todd-Wayne, I’m 22, I died when I was 16 and I’m trying really hard not to kiss you right now.”

Humming in contentment you tilted your neck allowing him better access to your sweet spot “better watch who you tell that to, now I’m going to rent a billboard and tell Gotham the red hood's real name is Jason” you teased. “I’m y/n” you said quietly with a smile.

Quickly sitting up and rolling off of you he stood up and pulled you towards him, “Come home with me tonight, I don’t think I ever want to let go of you now that I’ve found you.”

“Well… don’t you have you have to… I have… patrol?” You gaped, taking a step back and looking back out towards the skyline. 

“You have something better to do tonight than go to Gotham’s coolest and most notorious crime bosses' lair AND see where your soulmate lives?”

“Well, maybe I have something better to do than going to the house of someone I just met 10 minutes ago” 

Laughing and grabbing your hand he looked back at you “Look at us… acting like a couple already”


	3. Chapter 3

The two of you raced across the rooftops, laughing as you leaped over the alleys and danced between smoke stacks. 

“This way” he said, the robotic tinge coming from his helmet alluring in a way that prompted you to follow without question. He ran ahead of you, leading the way, occasionally turning around just to steal a glance at the way your smile shone in the moonlight or the way the wind flew through your hair. Running alongside him was suddenly second nature, like all your training was leading up to the moment when the two of you ran together. Making your way over the rooftops and living for the moments when your steps fell in sync as he aligned beside you to brush arms or hold hands for a moment before letting go to jump across another alley. 

He looked ethereal- those thick powerful thighs with legs that went on for days, and broad muscular shoulders and tapered waist still visible even through the rest of his chest was hidden under his armor. Even the starlight catching on his helmets contours drove you crazy. It was the way he flipped through the sky, seemingly commanding the space and knowing exactly where to step and how to twist his body just right, it was intoxicating. Even if he wasn’t your soulmate, you could get used to flying beside him. 

Coming to a stop in a deserted alleyway in the narrows you watched him as he released a grapple and jumped down to the road below. You huffed and blew some air at a strand of hair in your face and began to descend a fire escape as you wondered out loud “so this is where the red hood lives? I expected more gargoyles and a mote. Or at least a high tech rental scanner or something. This is kinda… pedestrian”

“Oh no, beautiful” you heard him laugh as he ducked out of your sight line “this is just where I stashed my bike tonight”. 

Taking your time to climb to the bottom of the fire escape you danced and balanced on the ledge. Suddenly jumping down and twisting your body to face the ladder you reached out just in time and caught yourself, ever thankful for the protective fingerless gloves which made such acrobatic movements possible. You held onto the last rung for a moment, lowering yourself from a pull-up position into hanging- you were content to hold yourself up and just hang while you listened to Jason fidget around wherever he had disappeared off to. The sound of metal scraping against metal and him grumbling to himself saying who knows what as his words were masked by the hood. Moments later he came out from the trap side door of the dumpster to your left pushing out a sleek black and red motorcycle. Dropping down to your feet and dusting off your hands you wolf whistled, appreciating it’s slick design. 

“I just wanted an excuse to have your hands on me, my car was actually closer” Jason said as he threw a leg over the bike and plopped down, his weight making the motorcycle bounce. Starting the bike he smirked as your smile spread when the motorcycle roared to life, from his seat on the bike he offered you a hand. “Well come on, don’t just gawk all night it’s more fun when you’re actually driving. Let’s go, beautiful.” Slipping your hand into his you yelped as he pulled you closer into his arm, your chest pressed against his and one hand on his shoulder “And don’t forget to hold on tight”. 

Blushing you swung your leg over the bike and got on behind him, pressing your front to his back and wrapping your arms around his waist. You could just barely make it all the way around him with the muscles combined with his thick armor and jacket- you had to hold onto the straps of his armor under his jacket and you squeezed tight breathing out a shaky “okay”. He reached back and squeezed your thigh, right underneath your knee reassuringly before revving the engine and peeling out of the alley. 

He drove like a madman but honestly you had never felt so safe. Trusting your soulmate to protect you, you saw the city in a way you had never seen before. Speeding down the Gotham streets you marveled as the streets blurred into one another and building lights twinkled like stars on the wet pavement. Snuggling in closer to him you felt his chest rumble as he talked to someone through the headset in his helmet. 

Twisting and turning through the streets you admired the wind slapping in your face and howling in your ear. Zipping through the midnight traffic he turned into the Gotham tunnel and you let your arms go and felt the smooth air dancing in-between your fingers as you rode through. Laughing as you exited the tunnel you were even confident enough to pull out your slingshot and launch a gear from your pocket into the metal traffic sign pointing towards the downtown Gotham exit. Jason laughed and pulled an arm away from the handles for a moment and rested his hand back on your thigh again making you tingle and feel like you were on fire. Putting your slingshot away you wrapped your arms back around him pulling yourself closer to him and leaning in closer, relishing in his body heat and leather and gunpowder smell. 

And you felt the vibrations of his laughter turn into deep chuckles and a growl as you ran your hands down his waist and to the inside of his thighs. 

Slowing down and turning down an alley way you peered out from behind him and watched as the garage door at the end of the alley you were riding towards opened. He slowed down and stopped inside the pitch black, only lit by the Gotham moonlight and put his feet down to hold it steady but when you made motions to get off the bike he grabbed your thigh again. Sitting back down and wrapping your arms back around him you lay your head against his back. 

Wincing, you shut your eyes for a second. It took a moment for your goggles to readjust from night vision to regular due to the sudden explosion of light coming from the industrial ceiling lights as they turned on one after another revealing a garage filled with sports cars, motorcycles, and something that looked an awful lot like a reappropriated military humvee. In awe you looked around as Jason started the bike again and parked it in its spot near the entrance to an elevator on the other end of the garage. 

“Are they all yours?” You asked when he turned off the bike.

“Yeah, built a few, bought a few, stole a few” Jason responded as he put down the kickstand and waited for you to climb off. “I’ll let you drive one if you’re that impressed” he said with a cock of his head and in a teasing voice. 

“I never learned how to drive”

“Well I’ll teach you then”

He took your hand and walked the two of you over to the elevator. Putting his wrist near a scanner you heard a beep and a numeric keypad revealed itself. “I’ll have to get you keys… and the codes change every week” after the digits were typed in the doors slid open revealing a sleek industrial type elevator. The two of you walked in and he scanned his other wrist and keyed in a different password before pressing the button for the top floor. 

Stepping back you leaned against the wall of the elevator “Who were you talking to on the way here?” You asked, watching him type the long code as the doors closed. 

“Nightwing,” he said as the elevator started going up “I told him I wouldn’t be out for patrol again tonight.” Gloved hands brushed some hair off of your face and lifted up your goggles to atop your head “or tomorrow” he said with an evil smirk.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi my friends, I know I haven’t updated this story since April so please enjoy this surprise update😂 I love you all and I’ll try to update again soon!!

“You know the rumors on the streets are that the red hood has a bomb installed in his helmet” you said as the elevator made its way upwards, “Wasn’t one explosion enough for you?” you teased with an upturned smirk, pushing yourself off of the wall and running a finger over the exposed part of his throat between the helmet and Jason’s jacket as he chuckled. 

At that moment it didn’t matter that he was a stranger that you met an hour prior and were itching to crawl into bed with. At that moment you were just marveling in his smooth and warm skin and trailing your fingers over the scars on his neck that matched your own. 

The two of you belonged together and these were visual proof. Proof of what he’d survived and what you’d endured. 

Most of the scars on your bodies belonged to him but some you had earned. 

You cocked your head as your thumb ran over the still pink scar from a mission a few months ago, your mark’s bodyguard had gotten in a lucky shot and the bullet grazed your neck. It was perfectly parallel to the deep gash decorating both of your necks that Jason had gotten nearly a year ago. 

Jason brushed his hand up your arm and undid the patches on his helmet, taking it off and holding it in the crook of his arm: “o, full of scorpions is my mind, dear soulmate”. 

“I’m pretty sure Macbeth said wife, not soulmate”

“Yeah,” he said with a dopey dumbstruck look on his face “but I thought it’d be weird to propose on the first date” stepping closer to you and trapping you against the elevator wall. 

“That’s what this is? A date?” You teased, playing with the curly ends of his hair on his neck. 

“Oh yeah,” he rasped, fingering a strand of hair that had fallen in front of your face before running his thumb down your jaw and over your lip. “I took you sightseeing. Gave you a ride on my motorcycle. Took you back to my place. I’ll cook you breakfast. The only thing missing is the cliche Netflix and chill and then we’re basically normal people on a normal date.”

“Well what if I don’t want a normal date?”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re stuck with me” he chuckled as the elevator stopped and the doors opened, crouching down suddenly and picking you up over his shoulder. 

You squeaked as he walked out of the elevator smacking his back as he squeezed your thigh, lights turned on as he passed through the apartment. A really nice one by the looks of your upside down view, definitely not what you expected. The apartment itself was homey and actually really well decorated, dark brown leather couches and warm lights. 

But the view. 

It took your breath away. You’d figured that the Red Hoods hideout would be some warehouse in the center of Gotham, but a real proper home disguised in that warehouse? And right along the River? Huge floor to ceiling windows lined almost two entire walls overlooking Finger River. The diamond district skyscrapers all lit up and glittering in the night, and a bridge decorated by rows of street lamps all reflected back down into the dark water- breathtaking. 

You hadn’t even realized that he had made his way to the kitchen as he set you down on the counter, spreading your legs to give him room to stand in between your thighs. 

Snapping your head back to him as you heard a mechanical hiss. The helmet that made the infamous red hood so recognizable split along the facelift and Jason reached to take it off revealing to you a pair of full luscious lips with your matching scar on the corner twisting the edge into a permanent smirk. His charcoal hair shaved on the sides and back in an undercut and the top falling out of his helmet some of it sticking up in the back and the longer bits falling down over his face and a single chunk of Snow White hair falling in front of his nose. Jason set his helmet on the counter behind you, and pulled you by the hips closer to the edge of the countertop. Running his hand up your spine and down your side and down your thighs again, hooking then around his waist. Watching him while he slowly pulls his gloves off you shivered as he spoke lowly, his voice a deep growl “Now this may be a little forward, but I wanna know if all those times over the years I’ve missed a shot was because someone else made you cum.”

“Why are you jealous?”

“You’re calling that jealousy? Believe me, if you can still use your legs by tomorrow morning I’m not being jealous.” Nuzzling your throat with his nose he continued “However, I also think that if you can still use your legs tomorrow I didn’t properly introduce myself.”

Biting your lip you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. Reaching up you took your goggles off your head and set them down next to his helmet and reached up to his face, carefully tracing the edges of his domino mask. 

Getting your message he smirked at you and leaned his head down reaching up to take off his mask and slowly tilting his chin back up brushing his hair back and resting his hand on his neck flexing his bicep, making a face. His full pink lips pursed and freckle dusted cheeks, ever so slightly pink. It would look ridiculous if his striking blue-green eyes weren’t sparkling and so damn sexy. 

“Did you seriously just do the smoulder?” You grinned bubbling with laughter. 

“Did it work?” 

“Not even a little” you giggled, cupping his cheeks and surging forward for a kiss, both of you grinning like idiots. 

With that kiss all the stories came true, every tweet, every cheesy rom-com, every dime store novel- they were right. The room melted away and suddenly it was only you and your soulmate and millions of nerve endings on fire. A feedback loop starting at your own lips and ending in his hands threading through your hair. Neurons firing in both your brains at the same time, amplified as they feed off of eachother duplicating in the other's brain. 

Sighing the two of you broke off, foreheads together and panting. 

“Holy shit, babe” jason said, brushing your hair behind your ear. Fingers lingering on your jawline and throat. 

Letting out a breathy laugh you leaned into his touch. “Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing. I was also thinking we should probably do that again”

“Yeah, you’re probably right” he said, yanking you even closer and grinding against your core. Moaning as he kissed you deeply. Picking you up by the thighs making you gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck as he started walking towards what you assumed was his bedroom. 

Tightening your thighs around him you trailed your nose along his jaw, and down his neck to bite as he groaned and bared his neck to you. Licking over the bite you relished in the way his stubble felt scratching against your cheek. 

Jason has you pressed against a wall before you even make it back to his room. 

“God babygirl you’re going to be the death of me” he murmured into your ear, propping you up against the wall and supporting your weight with his thigh. Throwing off his jacket he attacked your lips with fevered passion. A touch starved man chasing the taste of his soulmate on his tongue. “I bet you look even better without your clothes on” 

Stepping away from you suddenly he turned around and continued walking down the hall, leaving you panting and throbbing. Mesmerized by his thighs as he walked away stripping himself from his upper armor, you stood dumbfounded just staring at his naked back muscles for a moment. Knees weak and practically drooling at his broad shoulders and tapered waist and the way his back rippled when he took off his undershirt. 

Chuckling he turned back around to face you, walking backwards and loosening his belt giving you a show of his (definitely flexing, nobody could possibly be that ripped) massive arms, pecs, and abs. “We’ve been waiting our whole lives for this, you seriously want to waste a moment staring?” He called out teasingly. 

Jumping out of your stupor you leap off the wall chasing after him. Fumbling with the laces in your boots and hopping after him. 

Throwing your shoes off to the side you ran after him, crashing into him and pushing him against the wall kissing him again, all tongues and teeth. Your hands running over his pecs and down his abs, tracing the contours is the muscles as they twitched under your fingertips. Scratching his skin gently with your nails as you got even closer to his belt and smiling into the kiss as you felt his hips buck when you traced over his hip bone. 

“Fuck,” he rasped “this cup really is starting to hurt”. Laughing, you followed him as he took your hand leading you the rest of the way to his bedroom. 

Spinning you around so that you were chest to chest he backed up so that his legs were on the edge of the bed. He sat down on the bed spreading his legs wide enough for you to step in between them and he put his fingers through the loops of your belts. Lifting one leg to put your knee on the bed beside him to straddle his thigh, staring at him as you play with the straps of your armor to take it off. Tearing off your turtleneck you throw it on the floor behind you and start to undo the straps of your thigh holster. Jason moves his hands to lay across your naked back as his lips trails kisses from your belly button to your bra where he fits the flesh spilling out the top of your sports bra.

Running his hand up and down your spine he bit your nipple through your bra, “that feels really weird” he mused, biting you again. 

Moaning you ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp then pulling on the strands. “Yeah, but kinda cool right?” you breathed “in like a weird, I can’t wait to see what it feels like when I make you cum kinda way”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry the next chapter will probably just be pwp 😈💋


End file.
